Sparks

This is what it feels like
To be listened to by you:

Like driving through the trees
As the sky turns to dark blue

The sun’s on the horizon
As trees try to block the view

Let your gaze see past the trees
And you’ll find what’s shining true

But you insist on always driving
So your gaze never leaves the avenue

So I’ll waste here behind a tree
Never getting what I’m due